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Dirakkis Turn 7
Actions: Skaldaea: Banners rustled in the spring breeze, early in the morning, as the expedition set out from Skaldaea. Flenser, mounted atop some of the few horses captured and trained from those that wandered the plains, sat at the head of the column as the soldiers made their way through the winding streets. Though many were reluctant to cheer for a return to the militaristic past, the younger bands flocked around the parade route, waving small flags and cheering on the departing columns. Raven watched the colorful line snake its way down the hill, out of the recently constructed walls, and sighed as they began to make their way south. “Soon, my great work will be done. All of the Skaldaeans united.” With a grimace, Or and Tal, her necessary members for these negotiations, stalked back towards the conference table, sliding into seats across from this…Frost, and next to Amaranth, who was serving as something of an impartial mediator. “Surely, Frost, you must see that the way to peace is in unity, not in independence. Since I united the northern tribes, even the old hatreds have begun to die away, and no major conflict has erupted. Meanwhile, in the southern jungles, the tribes continue to wage petty wars against each other nearly every year.” Frost let out a sharp, barking laugh, before narrowing her eyes in ill-disguised contempt. “Oh, give up your preaching, you old crone. I’m no fool, and I can see for myself what’s going on here. You have the gall to preach your message of peace when as you speak, you send an army out to fight your own kind?” She snorted derisively. “Maybe you are a fool, though I didn’t give you credit for being one after having risen to the head of Val’dem so quickly. That army, as Amaranth has no doubt informed you, is marching south as we speak to bring more of the tribes into the fold. If they are foolish enough to squabble like children, I shall treat them like children. Sometimes, that means using force to bring them into line.” “Ah, yes, ever the wise leader. Others have tried that tack, and failed. What makes you any different? I’ve heard your propaganda, attempting to glorify Rayne and his warmongering.” “What makes me different,” growled Raven, “is that I don’t rely solely on military might. Yes, I used my tribe’s resources and manpower to bring the north to heel. Yes, I fought many wars in my youth. But now, when given the chance, I expand our nation peacefully. It can’t always be that way, as with the southern tribes. But I hope it can be for you. I use Rayne, because he is something the northern tribes share. All of them. His empire, though short-lived, is a common thread between our people, one of the few. And I need all the common ground I can get. Now,” Raven stood, thrusting a revised copy of the Skaldic Treaty towards Frost, “do we have a deal?” (Form the Skaldaean League, Culturex1). ---------- In the open grasslands around Tamer’s Shallows, Flenser began to truly take the measure Raven had granted him when he was tasked with subjugating the southern tribes. Nearly 8,000 soldiers, just over 1,600 bands, all lightly equipped with whatever equipment Raven and her cronies could throw together to equip the men. Though the weapons were varied, ranging from a few naginata, relics of Flenser’s early attempts at arming the nation, to simple spears, and even wood axes or sickles fresh from use on the farm, Flenser remained confident in his chances. For one, the tribesmen of the forest would likely have no better equipment than him, and certainly less numbers. The sheer mass of his forces might be enough to cow the tribesmen and bring them into the fold with limited casualties. Secondly, before he arrived on the fringes of the tribal territory, he was marching through Tamer’s Shallows, which had been ordered by Raven to begin the collection of metals and war materials, to provide a stockpile of leather and steel armor, as well as beginning a stockpile of replacement sets back in Skaldaea proper. (Military tech, standard issue basic armorx1). From there, Flenser’s force would march south, into the jungles, and bring a handful of the warring tribes to heel, establishing a permanent fort on the southern coast if possible, to guard the vital Firth of Illicia. By providing a large force in the region to serve as a stabilizing effect, the region should be successfully integrated into the burgeoning league shortly. (Expandx1, south towards coast). ------------------- Throughout the land, a new belief begins to grow, largely among those who have dealt with Stahl traders. These traders bear stories of the origins of the Stahl, and these beliefs have been adopted by many of the Skaldaeans who come into contact with it. The stories they tell are as follows. “During the age of creation, when the land was first formed, it was decided that every power would divide their power across the face of the land, preserving it from the ravages of their powers, and preventing its destruction in their climactic conflicts. These powers did so by creating in their image, bestowing their powers to those who would diffuse their powers. Thus was Forger born, imbued with the power to spread his people. He, this first Skaldaean, served to walk Della, seeding the land with many tribes. In this fashion were all the peoples of the world created, though many of these progenitors failed, and with them their people. In time, Forger grew old, and tired, and gifted his people with the ability to spread themselves, allowing the Skaldaeans to grow and grow. Others, ageless, and determined to see their work completed, stayed on with their people, watching over and guiding them through the years. Though Forger is no longer with us on the face of Della, he watches over us all, as do some of the progenitors who look upon our people with favor. Others, scions of the weaker gods, look upon their rival races with envy, and though they attempt to overthrow the righteous, Forger’s power flows through us, and gives us the strength to continue our duty, and spread our people.” (Found Religionx1, Culture). Zinbiel: Cheers could be heard echoing throughout Zinbiel’s science workshop. They had successfully made a seafaring craft, something most people thought would be impossible. This was actually the first thing Zinbiel’s scientist had produced in a few generations. As the clapping died down, and the loud celebration turned into a silent admiration, Pyth couldn’t help but wonder what these men could create if they ignored tradition. Unfortunately for Pyth, his conjecture was said out loud. Immediately he could feel the eyes of everyone staring, most even glaring at him, but they did not say a word. Instead they stood and waited. Pyth looked around the room for inspiration, for he had no idea what they wanted. All he could see was the face of angry people. They reminded him of the wolf that killed Keyes; vicious and deadly, but surprisingly calm. Pyth was scared. He thought about turning and running but they surrounded him so he took a deep breath and thought. Was it an apology they wanted? Perhaps an explanation, or a rousing speech. In the heat of the moment, Pyth did a little of each. “My fellow Zinbielians, I must apologize”. The tension seemed to ease a little. “I had no intention of startling you. Do not think I forgot ‘The Creed of the Eldest’. The single founding law for our current governing body. ‘Let the scientist be, if you wish for Zinbiel’s prosperity’.” It was true. Only one sentence was written in ink to limit the governing body of the Youngers. As Pyth said these words he could hear a few murmurs throughout the crowd. It was the perfect time to shut up and move on, but that was not one of Pyth’s strengths so he continued. “The merciful Youngers, upon defeating the Elders, granted them one request. That single request is what binds your work to the impossible. You say you are building a nuclear reactor, yet the only positive reaction I have seen in this building was a few minutes ago. Today will go down in history. Today I will liberate your creativity. Today I absolve you of this torturous law. Let your minds be free!” (Culture 1) Pyth spun around the room hoping to see signs of encouragement, but all he saw was confusion. One scientist, who seemed especially confused, stood out from the crowd and in a strong but quiet voice said “Please leave us. Your puns and poor excuse for a speech just make us feel stupider. If we really wanted to work on whatever we wanted, we could have left here generations ago, some of us did, and who knows what they have been working on since.” To the relief of all the scientists, Pyth was speechless. He had a disorganized look on his face so the kind gentleman handed him a map with a big X and text that read scientists. Pyth took the map, and started his journey to find these men for the betterment of Zinbiel. Pyth decided to take a troop of men to the southwest while his most trusted friend, Rak, would lead an expedition southeast. (Expansion 2 and 3) The market was bustling as it tended to do when the sky darken. Rak hated going to the market, there were too many people and not enough common sense. Everywhere he looked in the crowded allies he saw people desperately trading necessities for the newest shiny trinket. It disgusted Rak, he much preferred to be on the road exploring, but in order to explore he constantly had to purchase goods from the market. Today gold necklaces were the rage. He could here vendors claiming they had the best, newest and most valuable, and people would listen and swarm the vendors. Rak made his way through the alley avoiding eye contact with everyone. The guy he wanted was always at the back of the crowd. “Hey Rak. It’s been a while. What can I get for you today?” Rak gave the salesman a cold look. “Just rope and cloth.” “I can get you those. I also got a shipment of…” “JUST rope and cloth.” Rak cut the vendor off. “Fine rope and cloth here you go. What have you got?” The vendor cut his cheery act. Rak pulled out a necklace someone had dropped at the entrance of the market. The vendor seemed displeased. “Silver is out of style. I need more.” “It will be back in style as soon as those thoughtless plebes realize the gold is fake.” Every word Rak spoke appeared visible hurt him. “Sorry that’s how Zinbiel works. You give me more and I give you less, but at the end of the day we are both happy.” The sarcasm actually brought a slight smile to Rak’s face even if he wasn’t happy about the deal. He pulled out another necklace and headed home. (Trade Tech I get culture per trade route but less gold. Trade partner gets more gold). Akachk Confederacy: It is a brisk morning on the northern coast of the Confederation, and Chief Songi is having a rather bad day. The Atawun had, in recent days, prospered greatly. The city of Konigan- while not controlled by any one tribe- has brought a great deal of wealth into the northern lands. And now, with the creation of their first ships, a great deal of possibilities had now become available. Unfortunately, the Akachk are plagued by a lack of experienced sailors- as a people with little naval tradition, there are few to be found. And that's why he found himself here, in the wee hours of the morning, trekking through the woods with his guard under the cover of the dark moon. All the other fisherman they'd recruited had insisted he get this man- apparently he was regarded as a legend of some sort by the locals. Half a century ago, the Pibon clan had ruled a minor territory in the east, by the coast. They kept to themselves, but the ruling family were able fisherman, which is how they made their livelihood, selling to other Akachk further inland. Eventually, they had been destroyed when a hurricane wiped out their home. The survivors had scattered to the winds, and the clan effectively went extinct. The fisherman he is meeting, Asab, was the second son of the third son of the Chief who had ruled when the hurricane struck. He had settled here, on the northern coast, with his wife. Now he had three sons, and of the ramshackle fishing villages in the north, people whisper his name. When the dark moon is high, the fish swim higher in the seas- and drift slowly and listlessly, numbed by its effects. A skilled fisherman can reap in a major haul- but the dark moon draws other things from the depths as well. These are what prevent most fisherman from venturing out into the waters. Advances in technology have begun to change things, however. Bronzeclad ships can't be sunk as easily- and craftsmen now build larger and more stable ships by the day. An ambitious man can make a tidy profit if he's willing to be daring- and Asab and his three sons are quite that. But the ornery Akachk has refused to meet with Songi, citing his youth and inexperience. At twenty-three, he has only truly begun to come into his own- the past years were consumed with the succession crises his father's death had brought on. It had been a brutal affair- and he had only just ridden it out by running and being in the right place at the right time. To this end, the two have struck a deal. Songi- and a few of his bodyguards- will accompany Asab and his sons on their fishing trip. Depending on how things go, he might be willing to join up and train new Akachk sailors. (1-2, Naval tech) ----------------------------------------------------------- Several leagues to the southwest, an Akachk female steels herself atop a mighty tree. Of the scouts who had been sent out before, only two had ultimately recovered enough to return to service. Tesa, and another who had decided to retire. She had come back. She sticks to heavy cover. It's better than being under the moon itself, though you're always aware of it's presence. Only four scouts had been sent out this time, and they were all operating as part of a group this time. It was hoped that this would preserve morale, and prevent a similar incident. They had been charged with mapping territories in the south, to prepare them for settlement. Thus far, the mission had gone reasonably well, but there were still many days ahead of them. (3, Expansion) ---------------------------------------------------------- Sakahi has spent the past months constructing a device he believes will allow him to observe the Dark Moon safely. Using a series of lenses he himself has crafted and modified, his enormous telescope should allow him to track the moon and its activities. It is his firm belief that the Akachk people's first step towards countering the moons effects is to understand them, and how they moon induces them. (4, Dark Moon Research). Stormborn: Atticus was still missing and the moon was coming. Faced with a hard choice the council decided to put all efforts into stopping the moon's effect once and for all. (Dark Moon Tech 1-4) Meanwhile a shout unheard by any on this island since they arrived rang out. "Sails ho!" Katoba: Mankato stirs at last, sunlight streaming through his tent. He groans. His head throbs, his mouth feels parched and every movement sends a shriek of protest through his aching limbs. “I have overslept...” he mutters to himself. Perhaps his tradition of downing a skin of fermented mares milk before bed was finally starting to catch up to him. He stumbles outside, dazzled by the sun. Why, it must already be midday, by the looks of it. The camp was almost silent, which puzzles him. It was believable that the woman had gone off to forage or collect aurochs dung, but the men ride out to hunt without him? It was unheard-of… And yet his eyes do not deceive him. The only living souls in sight were a few children sitting in the grass, unnaturally still. At his approach they turned and stared, but made no sound. Mankato became suddenly aware of a sharp pain in his stomach, somewhere between hunger and fear. “Happa, Onachawee, where are your parents? Have they left the camp?” Happa, a boy of maybe ten, looks back his younger sister. With an almost fearful air he whispers, “No. They’re still sleeping, they won’t wake up…” His suspicions confirmed, the chieftain turns on his heel and strode towards the edge of the encampment, doing his best to hide his apprehension. He makes his way to the seated silhouette of the watchman. The sentry’s head is hunched forward onto his knees as if the young warrior had nodded off. Angrily, Chapawee grabs the man by the shoulder to jostle him awake, only to recoil in horror as the skin of sentry’s shoulder sloughs off beneath his hand. His head lolls back, revealing a face chewed apart by animals. With a start, the aging chieftain realizes that they have all been asleep far longer than is natural. The body has been decaying for at least a week. It was then that the screams started. Wives wake up next to the corpses of their husbands; parents look to see their children are gone, and assume the worst. When all is accounted for, seventeen men, women, and children have been killed, with dozens more in grave condition. Most of the food has been scavenged by animals. All the horses have all been killed or scared away. Worst of all, though, is the fear that has settled into the hearts of all the survivors. There is no dark moon to blame this time. No moonfire had been spotted for a day’s ride in every direction. His tribesmen, once integrally linked to their surroundings, now look at the land around them in revulsion. To them, an evil had taken root too deep to be displaced. In his heart of hearts, Mankato knows it is time to join the settlers on the frontier, and leave the heartland. x4. Kingdom of the Stars: The hunters rally to Ake's cries from all across the kingdom. Band after band head east, To hunt for food is the duty of the hunter. To fight for his people is his glory. (armies x2). The bands of hunters are not an army in the traditional sense. Each group, consisting of five to ten people, Operates individually. Cooperation is highly limited. While this would be a death sentence for may races, it works just fine for the people. Their natural speed allows these small hunting bands to excel at irregular warfare. They simply sneak up to the enemy, unleash a volley of spears and sling stones, and then flee into the night. While their ability to truly hold a line is exceptionally limited, the movement of enemy armies can be hindered by attacks on supply lines and baggage trains. (Mil tech 3). The people called to war by Ake act as one under his command. His magics power his orders with otherwordly authority. The power gained from his contemplation allowing his hunters to work together and take drastic action without the petty barriers of independant thought and initiative. His howls render Minor concerns, such as morale, completely irrelevant. Still, he quickly discovers the limits of this system in his skirmishes against the foreigners. It becomes clear that he cannot be everywhere at once. His howls are far too brutish and direct to direct an overall strategy. For his people to successful his influence mist be less brutish, but more subtle. Once again he will pray to the dark moon, this time not for command, but communication. Instead of control, he needs to connect. (Mil 4. Magic Brain link tech gogogo). Ramkarh: The breeze drifted through the temple as gently as Nir’Tasa was furious. It had taken years of devotion and hard work to reach her position as mediator of a god. Yet when some ginger trollop traipsed in and trampled all over her work, what did she have to show for it? Stammering and embarrassment. She was a daughter of Nirala, and Nirala would hear her prayers eventually. (Military Research 1, Flight Research 2) ------- The hut was cramped, musty, and smelled of roots and mud. Elarin stooped under the low door and looked around. Mystics were not looked upon highly in Ramkarh society, and as a result were generally pushed off to the side out of view of the civilized parts of town; the priests had made sure of that. Mothers told their children tales of wrinkled old hags who would kidnap them and put curses on them if they wandered off too far at night. Stories, no doubt, but all stories had at least a morsel of truth to them. She was no child, though, and she did not fear ghost stories. The Temple had driven out the mystics years ago, though no one she had ever spoken to could ever quite say why. There were only rumors – rumors that they had knowledge the Temple would have preferred remain unknown. The old woman sat slumped against the corner of the hut. “Don’t often get many visitors anymore.” “I trust that won’t be a problem, will it?” “Not as long as I get paid. But none of your temple’s stinking coppers,” the woman drawled as she leaned forward on her stool. “Buggers won’t let me show my face in public, what good’ll it do me?” Elarin was unfazed. “I’ll see to that. The stories all say you deal in curses and hexes. Is that true?” “Now, dear, you wouldn’t come here just to bother an old woman with wives’ tales, would you?” Elarin’s eyes remained fixed on the hag as her lips curled in a snarl. “Is. It. True?” The hag met her gaze resolutely for a few moments, before finally slumping back against the wall. “The soul is a wicked thing to meddle with, you know. At least, that’s what the priests told all your people years ago. Still… there are ways.” “Good. Tell me everything that you know.” Taken aback by the directness of the demand, the hag stuttered for a few moments, and began. She spoke for hours on the intricacies and little-known parts of dark magic and was not finished until the moon was high in the sky. “Now then. You said you’d see me paid. I don’t want your filthy money, so I’ll need something more than that. What did you have in mind?” Elarin walked over to the hag’s corner, knelt in front of her, and smiled. “A blessing.” (Military Research Research 3,4). Phantasmagoria: The small offspring of Hypnosomus takes a few uneasy steps with the legs of the elk it now fully controls. She is glad she did not try to command a creature with less legs, else she would spend months floundering and crawling on the ground. She feels her father calling out to her. He tells her that her name is Sau. He asks if she can imagine something for him. She wonders perplexedly at what he could want her to imagine. Then, gazing through the elk's eyes, she sees a small creature looking up at her. The same one she was just thinking about. But it looks off. It should have ears, she thinks. And just like that, a pair of long floppy ears appear on the top of its head. She is filled with glee at her mental capacity, and so is Hypnosomus. She faces the elk's head toward the horizon and asks, "what shall I do now, Great One?" "There are gardens that need care to protect and nourish. There are the Morpheons who still lack the semblance of our human visitors. There are nightmares that prowl the landscape slaying creatures. But most importantly, there is the world to explore outside these lands. What you choose is up to you," her parent instructs. "I will tend to your fields, and I will see to your Morpheons," she replies, but the last two frighten me so. I wish not to leave yet, nor face the terrors of your mind." "That is fine my child. Go now, the gardens await. I shall be with you at all times." Hypnosomus sighs as he falls into slumber again, pondering the Dark Moon again. Slow Growth Culture Tech: Morpheons tending to flowers Slow Growth Income Tech: Sprites tending to crops Anti Dark Moon Tech: sleep on it Expand. Stahl: Another Gold council is held, mostly with Silvermen in attendance. Noone on the outside doubted the nature of the meeting, they were to discuss the children. claims of social anarchy or the total cultural failure of the Stahl were thrown about in a fevered panic by Gold and Silvermen alike. The usual calm atmosphere was again for the second time in a month thrown into a shouting contest. Then, a single Stahl, Steelborn, walked into the center of the forum unannounced, to address the Gold Council. Murmurs of astonishment filled the hall. This was no military meeting and no Steelborn had been admitted. Silence fell as the residing Gold king: Kung Cho, and aged man, his gold turned to a dull white from his years addressed the man and the assembly. “The assembly recognizes The Steel Dragon”. Silence fell. It had been years since he had sat in on any meeting, longer still since he had been to one not regarding the Long-gang specifically. He always had the right to sit in on these meeting, but it was usually seen as a formality and sign of respect to the Long-gang. He hated coming here. Nobles and petty bureaucrats made up the vast majority of the council today, with a few exceptions in the statesmen and true leaders, Kung-Cho chief among those. “Thank you majesty.” He nodded to his old friend. “It seems we have yet another crisis. First we lose 200 souls to the darkness outside our mountains, now when we move to grow and replace our lost, the youth threaten to destroy everything we hold dear as a nation, our customs, our very way of life. Upstarts? Yes indeed. But it is not their fault. They lack not knowledge of our culture or respect for the Platinum. What they lack gentlemen…” Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and shifted them to a glare. “…is discipline”. And so he layed out his plan. There were exactly 72 children in the city who needed further education. They were to be rounded up and put into military schools run by the long gang and the Steelborn. They would receive military training and cultural and religious training till they were deemed reformed. Any newborns of this Platinum Generation would be given a choice from here on out. Be a functional member of society and adhere to the metallurgical hierarchy, or be sent to military/religious reform school. “How many will you need?” a Goldborn sneers.“Oh this?” the old dragon chuckled “Ill do this myself. Give clearance to ten of my Long-gang to clean up when I’m done.” The assembly is in silence again. He was a small man, especially for a Steelborn. He grinned up at the (RAISE A ONE MAN ARMY turn 1) (RAISE A TEN MAN ARMY turn 2) A group of Generation Platinum Children loitered outside of a shop. The owner had been jeered and vexed into a temporary vacation of his premesis. A short but well muscled Steelborn boy trotted up to them. “What do you want LAVA-BORN?” a copperboy jeered. “Nothing, I just heard that Liu Chii’s Rock Candy store is handing out candy to celebrate the new southern mining town.” Before the hour had ended the store was filled to the brim with young upstarts. The noise was deafening with shouts. The young shopkeep looked at the horde of youngsters, terrified. As he opened the door, out stepped a small old Steelborn holding what appeared to be a basket of rock candy. The crowd hushed a bit. Even they were hesitant to antagonize a Steelborn warrior, even if he was old. The old man placed the basket at his feet and held up and hand. “Now children what’s all of this fuss about? Crying because you didn’t get your candy? You all bring shame and dishonor to your families and this country. It is high time you learned what it is to be Stahl.” Out of apparently nowhere the Steel Dragon whipped out a short metal cane. He tapped in on the ground, and The other Long Gang encircled the mob of children. They knew to not seriously hurt them. But sometimes, discipline is a hard lesson to learn. The Long-Gang knew this all too well. “Come with us children. We are taking you to your new home.” (DISCIPRINE!!! Culture turn 3 (with hopefully two armies to stop the possible rebellion this will cause)) (establish a military school: army raising tech turn 4). Gorash: Songs of Culling The audacity of the Salamanders took the people of Gorash by complete surprise. They had taken them in, fed them handful after handful of the most exquisite strawberries, and in return the damn beasts had broken out in open rebellion against their betters. Not all of the Salamanders were traitorous whoresons however, as a few select bloodlines remained loyal to their masters, serving them true even as their lesser blooded relations trampled fields and leveled homes. These noble companions were gathered together, and hymns of fortification and readiness were prepared. If there was to be any hope of quelling the upstarts then the combined strength of true blooded Salamanders and their stalwart Gorashi Riders must be mustered. The Hymns of Battle had been prepared, and now they were to be performed. ( Actions 1/2 Raise Trueblood Salamander Battalions) Songs of Perseverance While the heartland bled more and more with each passing day, the outlying lands surrounding Gorash remained quiet. Despite a multitude of methods and many long days and nights of searching little was to be found of the Ancient Song of Warping. Many of the people had left the wilds, rushing home to save what could be saved of their vulnerable homes. But a handful of Bards remained resolute, for they would not let the psalms proclaim that they had failed in their mission, that they had simply thrown up their hands and run at the first opportunity. Nay, they would redouble their efforts and prove themselves as true champions of their people. ( Actions 3/4 Epic Tech- Sweet Sweet Mind Control Song). The Peters: Peters everywhere were beginning to hear word of the non-Peters, and it was concerning. The sheer number of eventualities that existed even within the Peter realm was staggering. Now imagine that exponentially compounded by the threat of non-Peter, random variables in lifes equation. There was only one solution. Increased technological superiority. Propoganda began to circulate about the outside world, and how Peters everywhere needed to maintain their place in the world through progress. Glorious progress. (Action 1 -4 income). Commera: The Hafuma People Iscan Governor Conhale Letton struck it rich on an expedition to a foreign land,“Hafuma.” Editor’s note: Hafuma means“Dog-Gringos” The residents of this landhad piles and piles of iron, and were willing to trade for animals and tools.The residents of this land, theHafuma, are a race of dog-humanhybrids. They live in tribalistic huts and did not seem to have agriculture ordomestication.Conhale claims the Hafuma cannotspeak, but anthropologists are skeptical.Professor of Humanities Shiva Herrom told us in a short interview, “No group of people could form society without complexcommunication. And the crafts GovernorConhale described require a significantlevel of specialization, which requiressociety. There’s something Conhale is missing, or not telling us.” -Linmer Adom “Kan Alshish Pane!” Conhale was able to trade aboatsworth of domesticated animals for the Hafuma iron, and will continue trade.Conhale is selling the iron for 1dumielin per pound. The governors of Alora and Sena have each offered to buy 10 pounds to make farming implements and handaxes, with the stated intention of settling westward 1. The Big FourTraders of Merova have each offered tobuy 50 pounds to reinforce their ships inorder to fund further exploration2-3.-Napfor Arin Mona Nudge Mages toHold Press Conference The Nudge-Mage academy of Mona has announced that it will be holding a press conference shortly in which it will announce its latest discovery. “This is going to have far-reaching implications,” promised Nudge-Mage Zare Immit. “I can’t give any more details yet, you’ll have to wait for the press release.” This is the first press release the Mona branch has made in their twenty year existence. -Hames Mullor Neologisms “Olak tish alish shan”: Well done sarcastic “Mora lin mora”: Wasting time“Del lara al aina”: Teaching magic to a Cow; Misguided Charity Pane fai waina: Metal for Cows; A bad trade Conhale Holds ExclusiveTrade Deal with Hafuma Governor Conhale Letton of Isca recently became obscenely rich from trade with the iron-bearing Hafuma people. When asked for the coordinates of their territory,Conhale refused, claiming that “Further diplomacy would only confuse them.”Economists estimate that Conhale’s price of iron is at least double what the market price would be. In fact, it may beeven more than double, if Conhale isn’t bringing back all of the iron. Attempts to get coordinates from the crew of Aftel Sitrak have been fruitless, as they are kept rich by …cont pg -Indor Merr Conclave of the Gods: As soon as he had arrived on the island, the White War Child had been able to sense another god. Doubtless, she (for he knew it was a she) was able to sense him, as well. The God of Barfights could not guess its intentions, and he was wary of meeting a possibly hostile god in an area that didn't have a nearby spirit distillery for his refreshment, but, for the sake of curiosity, he had set off one evening to explore where he sensed the other member of his kind was. The island of the Cheforna was an intriguingly beautiful but also incredibly hostile place, filled with wildlife that relished the chance to kill an unprepared human. Domnall was no human, and he most certainly wasn't unprepared, either. With more and more humans believing in him, he felt himself growing stronger and stronger (culture, 1). He muses on the beauty of the natural landscape as he crushes writhing anacondas under his child-sized feet. Suddenly Dunlap sees her. Atop a rocky crag exploding with dense vegetation, a woman with pure black skin, red eyes, and the antlers of a stag stares down at the little boy, with his adorable little bow and his conch shell headpiece. Domnall immediately knows what he's gotten himself into. "You're the Great Enemy, aren't you?" "YES," she replies, sending crows into flight from the trees all around. Her voice is the essence of everything uncomfortable and unpleasant. "Like, just you. By yourself." "YES." He'd heard of this happening in far-off, rural Commeran towns. A group of people would get so worked up in creating an supernatural tormentor figure that, before you knew it, their belief would actually create one. And then, they were really in trouble. Every bad dream, every nasty bedtime story, every gruesome legend--these "malice gods" conformed to their own mythology. The Cheforna could either stop believing in their Great Enemy, which Domnall didn't want to risk because it meant they might also stop believing they had a need for him, or Domnall could kill this feral god and go on living the easy life, cruising on a newfound net of believers that would gratefully indoctrinate their children, and their children's children, if Domnall played his cards right. Monotheism was one hell of a ride. But this thing, it was more powerful than him. The Cheforna had been feeding it their belief for some huge and amount of time. He'd need the other gods here, on this island. He bids a detached farewell to the ill-boding boogeyman on the hilltop and ducks back into the forest, intent on teaching the Cheforna how to build boats so they could sail to Remora, pick up his friends, and come up with a plan. (naval tech, 2, 3, 4) N.B.R.: Following the failures of the First Ursine Reception, the diplomatic parties decide to make another attempt. Raddomn decrees that the weekly Rotund Races shall make an excellent icebreaker, and as such orders all diplomats to compete in the Races. Following the surprise upset of Ioriga pushing Snufflebottom and placing first, negotiations resume. (nobaersplz 1-4). Results: Skaldaea: 15, 8, 2, 6 “Damn her!” Raven shouted in unison. For the second time, Frost had managed to stonewall her, with the assistance of several other border bands. Without any real sway over the other cities, Raven had no way to get them to join the League without Frost’s consent. It was infuriating. Turning to the band sitting in her study, she rages on. “She made me look WEAK, Amaranth, before the entire assembly. I, who UNITED OUR PEOPLE! I, who have done SO much. All for what? ‘Religious liberty’ she calls it. Pah. All just a flashy power play.” “Relax, Raven.” Amaranth smiled slyly at her. “Frost has acquiesced. Now that they are part of the League, the crotchety old bands can have whatever spiritual practices they wish. It will not eliminate the hold we have over them.” (Skaldaeic League Formed! +2 culture, no religion success) Flenser took great satisfaction in his newly regained social status. He had nearly lost it all until Amaranth had given him an in. Now he was marching Skaldaean troops southward to become a uniter himself, proudly expanding the nation. In an attempt to cow the savages, he sent forth messengers to announce the army’s arrival ahead of time, as well as proclaim their lofty goals for Skaldaea. They each returned with news of disorganized peoples, some with barely functioning bands. It was only when he had passed between the gap of Tamer’s Shallows that he realized his mistake. Eight thousand Skaldaeans were surrounded by nearly twice that number of tribal warriors, who had laid in ambush to prevent their escape. The battle itself was long and bloody. Flenser was proud, but shrewd. It took well into the afternoon for his position to be overwhelmed. As the Skaldaeans fought to the last, Flenser found each of his members disarmed and subdued. The enemy bands leered as they looked into the tactician’s eyes, and dragged each of his parts back to their different camps. (no expansion success, no military success). Zinbiel: 18, 13, 12, 13 At first, the scientists did not think much of Pyth’s proclamation. They had, after all, long despised the Youngers and their wild ways, and tried to keep to themselves as much as possible. However, a most strange occurrence began soon after that fateful day. Because being a scientist no longer required any real knowledge, everyone to ever have an idea was proclaiming themselves a scientist. And occasionally, one would be clever enough to sneak into the science workshop and pose as a new scientist. While most lacked the knowledge to actually create anything, the influx of ideas helped the scientists becomes close to the general populace once again. (+4 culture) Pyth and Rak both run into a minor problem as they travel ever southward. The cold that they have so happily made their homes in is nothing compared to the permanent ice that covers the continent further south. It seems to repel all attempts at crossing it, with great gusts of wind causing the expeditions to skate all the way back to its edge. Thusly repelled, they simply move west and east, and establish new towns on the way. (EXPANSIONS GET, +10 income, -20 wealth) The new influx of resources delights the merchants of Zinbiel, who continue in their miserly ways. (no success for culture trade). Akachk: 5, 11, 17, 20 (Dark Moon Protection GET!) The seaside home where Asab is said to live is a strange and musky place. The wood of the front porch creaks beneath Songi’s footsteps, and the only source of warmth in the cold purple night is a single lamp that swings eerily in the sea wind. Before the great and creaking house, Songi stood confused. Asab was supposed to be wealthy, a pioneer of Dark Moon fishing. Why did he live in squalor? But before he can even finish his thoughts he is met with an explosion of sound from within the shack. “RUN LAD, WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO WASTE” The kobold captain dashes past Songi as a hideous creature comes into view in the doorframe. It stands about two feet taller than the Akachk, with long finned spines down its back and long, vicious claws. As the frilled beast lets out a piercing shriek, Songi feels his feet carry him into the night, close on Asab’s heels. Before them lay a small but lavish boat, a bronzeclad canoe occupied by a pair of Asab’s sons. “HEAVE BOYS THEYRE RIGHT US. You lad, get in the boat. You wanted to learn about seafaring? Now’s your chance.” (moar successes. You need them.) Meanwhile, Sakahi has built his great observatory into the top of a massive redwood, and with his new telescope, he can track the Dark Moon with perfect accuracy. Yet as he stares at it, he is confused. The Dark Moon does not seem to move at all, it simply casts its deep purple light onto the world below, pulsing slightly. He conveys the rhythm to the scouts, and they find that they may time their movement between the pulses, allowing them to feel significantly less effect from its presence and secure the southern part of the peninsula. (EXPANSION GET, DARK MOON PROTECTION GET, -10 wealth, +5 income). Stormborn: 11, 7, 4, 8 (-2 to all rolls due to the presence of the Dark Moon) All across the vast expanse of the sea, the Storm shudders and moans. The Council without Atticus was headless: while he had not participated a great deal in the meetings themselves, each member looked to him for guidance, a sage that they could turn to and confirm their actions with. Therefore, his absence caused something of a panic, a freezing that seized the Council. Instead of attempting some new way to tether the Storm they instead turned once more to the lightning rods, a tried and failed experiment. But as the Dark Moon began to radiate down its purple light, the Stormborn will filled with the first true sense of dread they had ever felt. For it had become quiet. The Storm, once a vigorous roil of wind and rain, now slowed. But worst of all, the lightning had stopped. The omnipresent thunder and electricity which were cornerstones of life on the island were gone. As the Dark Moon’s light begins to pierce through the cloud cover, the Stormborn could only pray that the lightning would return soon, just as they prayed for the return of Atticus. Katoba: 2, 7, 17, 12 It is difficult for the Katoba to expand without food and horses, but Mankato is insistent. After what had occurred, none blame him. The land here was cursed, as it had been since long before he was born. As it had been since the Katoba had claimed it for themselves and banished the Cheforna from Golgannis to their island. He spat on the ground. It was bad luck to remember the enemies of the past. But it gave him an idea. The steppes were vast, but dangerous. It would be good for his people to have a wall to put their backs against. Looking at the distant peak, he grips his sword tightly and nods to himself. The Katoba would move north. (EXPANSIONS GET, -20 wealth, +10 income). Kingdom of the Stars: 18, 17, 2, 1 For all his life, Ake had been a simple hunter. The best hunter, surely, but a hunter all the same. Now he commanded the minds of hundreds of the people with a thought, and led them into battle against their selfishneighbors. It was good. It made him strong. It brought glory to himself and to the father. As he progresses west, he walks alone through villages, and with a howl the people come out to meet him, brandishing whatever weapons they can get their hands on. He had grown powerful indeed. (2 armies raised.) But there was something Ake would never admit, to himself or to any other- controlling the people was difficult. And so that fateful night he sent up a prayer for strength, a prayer that he would better control the soldiers under his command. A prayer that the father interpreted as weakness. As Ake split more and more of the people into skirmishers, a strange feeling came over him. A scratching in his throat, a bristling in his fur. Seeking to reassure himself, he let out a great howl – which cracked like glass beneath a hammer. The sound shot through the minds of the assembled warriors, and soon a great panic had broken loose, as the armies became a mass of fur and blood in combat with each other. (Revolution!). Ramkarh: 8, 2, 9, 18 (Dark Moon Immunity) “Child, be calm. You ask for things beyond your power. Just as the fish may not walk upon the land, nor can the Ramkarh walk amongst the clouds.” “YOU KNOW NOTHING! BY NIRALA ALL IS POSSIBLE! I will prove it, and she will be honored above all others!” Even as the elderly priestess began to respond, Nir’Tasa was storming from the chamber. For three weeks she had meditated, and received no insight on the stormborn, or how they could have such powers. Flight was, to her, a mystery. The teachings of the witch were dark and dangerous. She had spoken of rituals and sacrifices, of powerful possessions and transformations. And Elarin had listened attentively, hanging on every word. It was not every day, you see, that such knowledge could be put to use. But she had the influence and the means, and all it had cost her was a single silver ring. Now, she could spread the teachings of the witches. Her inner circle, the Silver Rings, would soon have all these powers as well, allowing them to surpass all who stood in their way. (+3 military). Phantasmagoria: 7,4, 2, 15, 17 Sau walks for a long while amongst the fields, watching the Morpheons in their day to day haplessness. They have figured out how to harvest fruits and plant seeds, but they do nothing worthwhile with these products; simply putting the fruit into ever-growing basket piles. It is somewhat frustrating for Sau, who still has very little power in this body. She wants to tell them to eat the fruits themselves, or to make something out of them, though she can’t imagine what. Overcome by hunger, she begins nibbling on a basket of bright red berries. If nothing else, they had gathered plenty of delicious food for her. (no slow growth successes) Hypnosomus rolls uncomfortably in his earthy bed. Things are not going as well as he had hoped. Each day he remembers the migraines and steels himself for their return, but he feels helpless to stop it. Perhaps he could do as those humans he met suggested, and escape from it. The Dark Moon seemed inevitable, but he would try. He begins stretching himself now in every direction each time the thought of the Dark Moon pops into his head. At least the needle-fruit were growing well. (No Dark Moon tech, Expansion GET!, -10 wealth +5 income, +1 military). Stahl: 7, 20, 3, 9 It was a common rumor that the Steel Dragon was not the pinnacle of Stahl combat that he claimed himself to be. He was more of teacher than a fighter, and so long had it been since he had faced a true challenge that he did not pass his own fitness test to certify combat readiness. Hastily seeking to cover up such shame, he instead accompanied the ten steelborn that he selected for the mission. Together, they would be an unparalleled force of discipline. (1 army raised, epic army, fights at +2 military effectiveness.) However skilled these steelborn were at martial arts, however, they were far from good teachers. While the Platinum children are a good deal less rowdy than they were in their normal day to day life, the simple matter of fact was that they were being taught below their learning level. The Platinum had gifted them with the intelligence and prowess of adults, and this strange age-intelligence difference did not fit neatly into the Stahl hierarchy. It was an issue in need of further investigation. (no success). Gorash: 10, 9, 6, 16 The Village Bards were completely caught off-guard by the uprising of Salamanders. Ever since the massive amphibians had been summoned by the Wild Bards, they had simply longed for a return to their peaceful lives of strawberries and the sweet, sweet alcohol that came from them. As they attempted to find salamanders that would still fight with them, the watched as the more rebellious lizards would herd the empathetic away from the villagers. Much weeping was had as a salamander was torn from its rider and carried into the swamp, often never to be seen again. The future looked grim. Salvation, however, came through song. In the ruins of a lost Gorashi amphitheatre, the final section of the Song of Warping is found. For Timbol, it is a simple matter to convince the naïve bard to hand it over to her. She knew too much of the song, and her will was too strong. Now, sitting atop a massive salamander, she moved slowly into the center of town. All around her, a chorus of Gorashi mirror her song as she sings into the wind, and the salamanders begin to cease their rampage. The Village Bards too find themselves drawn into the music, and quickly all find themselves under the sway of the Wild Bard, the savior with all the makings of a ruler. (Revolution ended, EPIC TECH GET- Song of Warping: +1 to culture rolls, +3 culture, resolve revolutions with ½ as much culture) Peter: 8, 12, 7, 11 Peter decides that Peter needs to become a household name in lands other than the island. While Peter was fairly sure that each Peter knew he was Peter, he was not as sure that the Hypnosomus creature knew the extent to which there were Peters. Not that he would tell him about every Peter, but perhaps he could meet Peter and Peter. Deciding that it would be best to organize all of these different Peters into a more easily comprehensible format for other people, Peter begins an extension on the chute system Peter built. It’s nothing flashy, but a labelling system helps direct imports in the right direction. (+1 income). Commera: 3, 15, 14, 6 (-2 to all rolls due to the presence of the Dark Moon) Conhale is met with something of a problem as the demand for iron spikes. As the sole supplier, he has forgotten to, well, keep up supply. The trade with the Hafuma was inconsistent at best, and their apparent war with their neighbors meant that they were a great deal less willing to part with their iron than they had been initially. Apparently their first gift had been quite generous. So now he was left with a quandary, and one that he did not debate very long. The Big Four had simply offered him double, and the majority of the iron had gone to them. Thankfully, their iron-reinforced hulls prove quite durable, and the range of the fleet is expanded once more. (+4 naval tech) Meanwhile, the grand press conference is met with a very strange situation. No matter what the great revelation of the nudge mages was, the willows were certain it would not be announced. In an attempt to one- up their rivals, they had willed the entire assembly area floor into a thick chocolate pudding, into which sank both poor mage Immit as well as the reporters gathered there. When questioned why they weren’t always this effective, they replied “fuck off nudgies.” (no other successes). The Remoran Gods: 9, 15, 0, 1 (-2 to all rolls due to the presence of the Dark Moon) As Domnall hurriedly returned to Remora, the Great Enemy began her work. Gods, you see, become incredibly defensive when their source of worship is threatened. This is doubly true for those gods without prior competition. Domnall’s arrival sparks in her a deep fear for her own existence, one which compels her to act to a degree she had not in a long while. All across the island, great winds begin to glow, and the Cheforna begin spreading stories of mysterious creatures they see at night. They tell of deep red eyes staring from the dark corners of the jungle, while the antlered skulls of all manner of beasts appear when backs are turned. This wave of terror fills the tribe as the Great Enemy’s power grows. Moreover, she feels a strange force brewing within her as well, one much different than the feeling of prayer. It is a cold and icy magic, but it is one that she would use anyway. If this creature was truly a god of combat, she would have no choice. (REVOLUTION, also +2 naval tech if we care about that). NBR: 18, 18, 15, 11 Sir Snufflebottom is greatly pleased by the outcome of the Rotund Racer Race, in which he came in first place. As such, he is much more willing to discuss terms of peace with the Beliznayans, though how such terms are discussed continues to be much of a mystery. After much deliberation, Snufflebottom finishes his long series of roars and falls into a deep slumber, fueled by a day of food and excitement. As the diplomats stare at the sleeping ursine, Raddomn stands up tall and announce their demands. “ALL IS CLEAR. The Narcoleptic Bear Royal demands a national beast reserve, in which bears and other animals can live free from domestication should they so choose. He claims that this will be enough to end the Naked Belligerent Rebellion.” Thus did it come to pass that the NBR’s NBR saved the NBR from the NBR. (rebellion overino, bears are kay. +5 culture). Battles: The Battle of the Warped Mind: Rebels: 5=5 Result: -1 rebel army and -1 loyalist army. Despite Ake's best attempts to control the massive horde of the people he has gathered, the mindless ones continue to ravage the army, preventing any sort of real organization. It is not possible to conduct an invasion of another nation in this kind of manner. "Fine," he thought to himself, "I will prove myself to the Father as he has asked." Bringing his much greater number of warriors up against the few rebels, Ake quickly crushes the rabid dissenters beneath a flurry of spears and claws. It was an inevitable outcome. He only wished that he could have slain them before they had taken so many. Category:Nationbuilder VII Turn Records